The Skin of Our Teeth is one of those plays. At the first intermission the kindly gentleman next to me shook his head and left, wishing me “good luck trying to review this one.” At the second intermission I overheard an eager but utterly confused audience member asking the company dramaturg what on earth the play was about and who, metaphorically, the characters were supposed to be. As I left the theatre post curtain I heard one couple say to another couple, “well, that was weird” and then drop all conversation about the play in favour of picking a suitable dessert spot.

From my small, unscientific sample, you’d think Thornton’s Wilder’s The Skin of Our Teeth was some kind of flop as opposed to the 1942 Pulitzer Prize winning play that it is. There’s no question that this allegorical absurdist play that tackles the resilience and failings of mankind in the face of catastrophes both natural and manmade while playing fast and loose with our understanding of time, isn’t for everyone. Truly, how many people can wrap their heads around a seemingly modern New Jersey family having dinosaurs as pets while trying to survive the ice age and invent the alphabet at the same time? Or a mammalian president who presides over feathered and finned constituents but is still human enough to fall for the Vegas showgirl and ignore the impending flood? Or a boy turned terrorist who seems unable not to turn on everyone and everything as if compelled by curse?

Truth is, that as much as the play sounds (and even is) like one of Hunter S Thompson’s more PG rated acid dreams, The Skin of Our Teeth is a bitingly clever comedic play with plenty of pithy things to say about us as a species. Or at least it is when the production is up to the task. But here under Kathy Drum’s laboured and often clunky direction, the humor lands with a thud and the insights fizzle out like wet sparklers.

Set on Drum’s post explosion looking set strewn with ragged books, an island riser, a garbage filled river and an impressionist looking backdrop depicting an inner wall of a house, we are introduced to the Antrobus family. Derived from the name from anthropos, the Greek word for man, the Antrobus’s are our one continuum in this three act time-warping play that has the family facing extinction from the ice age, a great flood and a species clearing war.

There’s the moody Mr. Antrobus (a played with unwavering straight man humorlessness by Wade Gonsoulin) on whom Wilder bestows the invention of many of man’s great achievements such as the wheel and the multiplication tables. Mrs. Antrobus (strongly played by Carol Davis) who’s main concern is keeping her husband and children flourishing. Daughter Gladys (Annabelle Dragas Xanthos expertly channelling a young teen), a young woman who knows that to please her father with her cleverness is the only safe route for both her and her family and Henry (a terrifically angry Giovanni Sandoval) who stopped going by his real name Cain (wink wink) when he killed his brother and developed a scar on his forehead. Also part of the family is Sabina (the Norma Desmond-esque Autumn Woods); a siren of a gal who used to be Mr. Antrobus’ mistress but now is relegated to the kitchen.

Sabina is our guide during this play that refuses to let us forget that we are watching a play. Never mind fourth wall breaking, Sabina not only speaks often to the audience but announces several times that she hates the play and refuses to say the lines or perform certain scenes. Action is broken, stage managers must cajole to get things going again and the audience is left to ponder just what Wilder wanted us to take away from this play within a play within his absurd confines.

But taking anything away from this production is difficult due to Drum’s inability to find the groove in the tone and timing of the piece. Ensemble members playing crowd scenes are shuffled inelegantly off and on the stage. Human sized dinosaur plushies dodder in one place instead of going for the bigger physical gag. Actors yell over each other and the din off stage threatens to distraction. It all feels like a bit of a mess. More importantly however is that Drum seems to have forgotten that while yes, there is a message to Wilder’s madness, it’s via the comedy that we get the message. Other than Sabina, no character shows one iota of camp or irony, which would have been fine had the straight ahead treatment elicited the humour necessary to abide this crazy wonderful script. Instead it feels like the very talented cast were given the incorrect director’s notes for the entire show.

The final moments of The Skin of Our Teeth are always a letdown for me. Wilder can’t seem to resist the gooey moistness of a happy ending. Or as happy an ending as one can expect from this show. But historically I’ve been forgiving of this minor blip in an otherwise astonishing wild ride of a play that so pointedly has us questioning why how it is that mankind persists. We laugh, therefore we understand. Sadly in this production despite the valiant efforts of a stellar cast, we don’t laugh that much and our understanding suffers as a result.

RATING

For fans of Wilder – Well this ain’t Our Town, that’s for sure. And if that’s the only Wilder work you’ve seen, boy are you in for a surprise with this show. One that perhaps you need to experience. But while this production of The Skin of Our Teeth boasts a great cast who make the most of a low tech set, it just never gets up to revving speed the way you want and need it to. MAYBE SEE IT

For the occasional theater goer – No, just no. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200. In fact, if someone offers you $200 to see the show, turn them down. SKIP IT

For the theater junkie – If the actors are the building blocks, then the director is the architect. You’ve seen enough to know when great work is being conjured or not. Yes the performances here are grand, but they don’t quite make up for the lack of feeling and comedic cohesion in the production. SKIP IT

Je ne sais quois. It’s a French term used to describe an intangible quality that makes something distinctive or attractive. It’s a term I kept coming back to while watching Bayou City Theatrics’ production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. More specifically, I kept coming back to why I couldn’t quite figure out what it was the production was lacking.

The building block elements were there. The singing voices in this musical are decent enough to very good. The acting is also on point in many cases. The set design on the teeny tiny stage is as clever as the matching costumes and makeup. Add in the award-winning, smartly comedic, tongue in check book by Burt Shevelov and Larry Gelbart and Stephen Sondheim’s trademark delicious lyrics and memorable music, and you’d think this production would hum along nicely. But instead, the jokes fall flat most of the time and the wind is sucked out of the revelry we should feel for this thinking man’s farce. So what gives?

Let’s get the plot out of the way first so we can discuss what went wrong. Pseudolus, an illiterate but savvy Roman slave desperately wants to purchase his freedom from his masters. Without the financial means to do this, he must find other bargaining tools. When his master and mistress go on a trip, he finds out that Hero, their none-too-bright son (also Psuedolus’ master) is smitten with a virginal courtesan named Philia living in the bawdy house next door run by Marcus Lycus. Ignoring the fact that Lycus has sold Philia to a strapping captain by the name of Miles Gloriosus, Pseudolus strikes a bargain where he will be freed if he can procure the girl for his young Master. But nothing goes to plan in this pandemonium of a plot riddled with half-baked schemes, near misses, mistaken identities, a book that skewers social class and lyrics that tickle the linguistic sweet spot.

From the plot outline above, it doesn’t take great imagination to realize this is a show that relies on fast pace for the comedy to work. Timing, under Colton Berry’s direction, is perhaps the thing most working against this production. Everything feels several beats off. The slapstick of The Proteans (three chorus characters that morph into whatever roles are needed, be they soldiers or eunuchs) plods along in gawky fashion and just doesn’t have the energy to elicit laughs. The Tim Conway-esque old man shuffle gag that repeats itself throughout the play as Erronoius attempts to walk around Rome three times is painfully drawn out without any support from music or dialogue to help it along. Most notably, the story calls for several gag situations followed by pauses so that the fourth-wall breaking Pseudolus can mug his derision/boredom/astonishment for us. Instead of this being a bonding moment between character and audience, Berry’s lag on the uptake and the silence that underpins the moments feels stroppy and humorless.

If timing is the show’s downfall, energy is the tipping point over the edge. Forum is a big personality play with musical numbers screaming for charismatic performers to turn ridiculous ideas into laughable situations. Apart from a few on stage, the cast just didn’t have the gusto to pull it off. As Pseudolus, Whitney Zangarine has a lovely but thin voice far better suited to harmony than carrying off such show-stopping numbers as the opening “Comedy Tonight” which sets the tone for the play. In addition to her vocal issues, Zangarine can’t quite conjure the impish Bravado of Pseudolus to its full extent. Yes she eye rolls and smiles devilishly and has a few funky dance moves, but her efforts simply don’t fill the shoes of this lead character to grand comedic effect. This lack of gut busing energy is much the same for the rest of the cast minus Berry himself as the terrifically squawky, high pitched Nu-Yawk accented slave Hysterium and the swooningly strong-voiced Nicole Norton-Slatnick as the uber floozy Philia. These two know how to milk a character and take them over the top without losing control. They do justice to Sondheim’s lyrical wizardry and our genuine laughter is their reward.

Berry also succeeds in making the cramped stage of the Kaleidoscope theatre more interestingly stylized than I’ve seen previously in this show. Choosing to dress the set in a kind of marbleized, dirty sheet look, Berry facades the three Roman houses in identical materials and colours, creating a crumbling look for this less than grand neighborhood setting. Carrying on this monochromatic effect, Berry’s costumes and makeup also take on the greyish hue with actors sooty powdered faces matching wonderfully with the set in a kind of clown cum ghost zombie look. Supported by Berry’s generous and stylish lighting, the whole effect is quite modern in a shabby chic architectural digest kind of fashion.

Luke Hamilton’s choreography makes decent use of the cramped space and has some bright moments such as the wonderfully silly and catchy ‘Everybody Ought to Have a Maid”’ number that has performers trolling through a dance scenario with added participants each go round. Less successful is his parade of courtesans who one by one show off their specialty. Here again, the lack of music and lag timing takes all the lascivious bite out of the endeavour.

As the madness of the show winds down to the happy ending we were promised in the opening act, there is no doubt that several ear worms were planted in my head despite the often less than boisterous deliveries in this production. It says much about the bouncy and biting score that even less than perfect productions can leave us with this happy aftermath. Berry has some splendid design ideas at work here and he himself provides one of the bright spots of the performance, but until he pulls the reins tighter and demand more from his cast at a faster clip, questions alluding to that nagging French saying will linger.

RATING

For Forum Lovers – It’s not a devastating departure, but neither is it the raucous, sexy, silly fun you love about this show. Berry’s vision for the look of the show is worth noting as is his performance. MAYBE SEE IT

For musical lovers – This is a fine but not special introduction to this chaotic and funny musical. You’ll be somewhat amused as you hum along. Pity that it isn’t going to blow you away. MAYBE SEE IT

For theatre junkies – Sure we love the music and lyrics and the character names delight (the name Gymnasia, the courtesan, alone makes me giggle every time) plus set and costume design like this deserves to be seen. But whether you put the missing panache down to the intangible or figure out that the timing and energy just aren’t up to snuff, you’ll be better off fondly remembering this one on your own. SKIP IT

Daddy issues. We all got em. Whether you buy into the Freudian/Jungian theory of intrinsic competition in the parent child relationship or the more modern understanding of how fatherly archetypes shape our personality, it’s fair to say that our Dads have the potential to mess us up. It’s why playwrights from Shakespeare to Miller and too many more to mention have mined this complex relationship to dramatic effect in their works. But what about a musical treatment of the complex? Not one of those thinky-singing, intellectual examinations that are still in vogue in certain circles. A big, glitzy, show-stopping number kind of musical? Well if you slapped a dress on it and bedazzled the frock with oodles of glitter and sequins, you’d get the Tony-award winning Kinky Boots.

Based on a 2005 film, which in turn was inspired by a true story, Kinky Boots’ stage sashay was the creation of Tony-award winning playwright/actor Harvey Fierstein (book) and 80’s pop icon Cyndi Lauper (lyrics and music). While the circumstances that propel the show may be a little left of mainstream (that is if you consider drag queens unconventional after all this time), the arc is a bulls-eye utopian feel good musical from start to finish.

Charlie Price (Steven Booth) is the son of a men’s shoe factory owner in small town outside of London. Choosing not to go into her father’s business, Charlie and his sweetheart Nicola (Grace Stockdale) hightail it to London to take jobs as marketing flaks in a swanky firm. But Charlie’s Dad’s sudden death forces him back to the factory to literally and metaphorically fill his father’s shoes. In place as head fo the company, Charlie struggles with both sagging sales and his own issues about not living up to his father’s expectations. Enter the man in the dress, Lola (Darius Harper) a fab-u-lous drag queen with daddy issues of his own whose boxer-father never accepted him as he was. So much so that poor Lola can only feel comfortable in her wigs and dresses and stilettos that could easily strike oil. Problem is, his feet are killing him. The reason being, as Charlie the sudden shoe maker expert points out when the two meet, is that heels engineered for a woman (and cheaply made) are no way for a guy to walk through life. Quicker than you can say Manolo, the unlikely, but similar(as the musical desperately wants us to understand) pair strike up a deal where Charlie will turn his ailing business into a kinky boot factory for cross dressers and Lola will leave the night club scene and come design for him. Will it work, won’t it work? And what will happen when tensions arise between Charlie and Lola? It will all be decided at the international shoe show in Milan where the kinky boot new creations will be unveiled on the catwalk.

With no doubt how it’s all going to turn out in the end, we are left to marinate in the spectacle of the costumes and the set design and the music. Mostly these do a fine job of making this utopian-simple storyline bearable and downright fun in places.

Lauper’s lyrics won’t capture your heart or head, especially not with a song called ‘Everybody say Yeah’ that comprises seemingly endless shouts of “yeah” from the singers without much else to the number. In other songs, such as ‘Step One’, Lauper’s lyrics choose rhyme over substance with lines like, “This is time for a shake-up, Look at me wake up, taking control. This is a new beginning, my gears are spinning, let’s rock’n’roll.” But what the lyrics lack, Lauper makes up for by giving us flashy if forgettable arrangements that provide showstopper moments for characters creating a celebratory atmosphere throughout most of the show. All of this is wonderfully supported by David Rockwell’s sets design which conjure the kind of factory hipsters would kill to reclaim as a loft and Gregg Barnes’s costume design that delivers drag get ups and high-heeled boots to die for.

But if we’re here to bask in the sparkly confection fun of this show, the buzz is harshed unforgivably by lackluster choreography and middling performances. Throughout much of the show, Lola is flanked by a gaggle of drag queen backup singer/dancers called the Angels. They accompany him in his nightclub acts and they serve as models for the new boots, requiring their presence in the factory often. Decked out to the nines in full drag regalia and led by Harper’s strong voice, the Angels should have shaken their booty till the roof fell down, but instead under Director/Choreographer Jerry Mitchell’s staging; they barely get the walls shaking. Some of the problem seems to be the cramped space in which the Angles are confined, this is a busy set with not tons of room to really let loose. But had the choreography branched out beyond arm waves and the occasional splits and had the Angles been more talented dancers, these problems could have been overcome.

Overcoming most of the problems with the performances could have been dealt with in one word. Accent. Not a single one of the cast members manages a convincing working class accent. It’s not exaggeration to say that nowhere has the word ‘wanker’ been more butchered. British slang aside, Booth’s Charlie is as flat as the chests of the Angles out of costume. While his voice carries through strongly in his numbers, Booth flies through the fast paced show mechanically without any warmth or connection. Harper fares better thanks in part to a role that gives him the best lines and shines the spotlight on his terrific voice. But like any drag character at the center of a show (Hedwig, Frankenfurter, Albin) the charisma needs to come not from the costume and make up, but from the performer himself. In Harper’s case it’s hit and miss. In the infectious number, ‘Sex is in the Heels’ Harper’s energy has us in the palm of his hand and his performance in a cleverly staged boxing match against a close-minded factory worker helps make that scene one of the best. But Harper lacks spark in the slower numbers, most notably in the duet ‘Not my Father’s Son’where he and Charlie spell out their daddy issues for those that need reminding. Here Harper does little to make us feel Lola’s loss or pain. It’s a vocally strong but dialed in performance seemingly waiting to once again don the heels and get back to the fun stuff.

Truth is, in this production, Charlie and Lola may be the stars, but the spotlight belongs completely to Lauren (the risibly accented but stupendously comedic Lindsay Nicole Chambers), a factory worker with a crush on Charlie. With her lithe physicality that never shies away from gawkiness for a laugh, Chambers brings the house down in her solo number ‘The History of Wrong Guys’. Wrestling with her newly realized interest in Charlie, Lauren gets the very best of Lauper’s lyrics, “You used to be so “eh”, a limp lackluster bore. But now you’re changing into something I just can’t ignore.” But it’s Chambers’ goofy embodiment of her character that truly makes the lines come to life in song and throughout the show. It may not be easy to steal the spotlight away from a 6 foot something drag queen, but Chambers is the one we watch and look forward to seeing again and again.

By the time the musical moves to Milan, we’ve been entertained highly and made to wish there was more talent in this soft ball sexual tolerance/learning to love yourself for who you are/letting go of your father complex show. Carl Jung once said, the question is not whether one has complexes. We all do. The proper question is whether we have them or they have us. In the case of Kinky Boots, the overly earnest and irony free show has us just enough to say we’ve had a good time but drops the ball too many times for us to want to commit fully to its therapy.

RATING

For the pearl clutchers – This is drag queen light. There are no alternative sexual relationships or even sexual situations in this story. Yes, there are men in women’s clothing discussing shoes, but that’s about as far out there as it gets. The accept yourself and others for who they are message goes down easy and may just entertain even your delicate sensibilities. MAYBE SEE IT

For musical fans – There are lots of big-ticket numbers here and while not all of them take off in full choreographed splendour, there is enough to keep your toe tapping. Don’t expect to fall in love with any of the music or lyrics and you’ll have a grand time. SEE IT

For theatre junkies – This is a fair production of a good but not great show. Yes it won the Tony for best musical and Lauper went home with the Tony for her work as well but as we all know, awards don’t necessarily mean great work. If you’re the type of theater goer that needs to rack up award winners in your canon then by all means, go. Otherwise, kicking off your shoes and sitting this one out wouldn’t be uncalled for. MAYBE SEE IT

Ah Sherlock. Between being given new big screen life thanks to the highest paid actor in Hollywood (box office magic, Robert Downey Jr.) and your present small screen triumphs (Jonny Lee Miller’s version on CBS and Benedict Cumberbatch’s fan favorite turn on BBC) you really are in vogue these days. So it’s no surprise that the Classical Theatre Company would want to bring a version of your tale to the stage. From the cross-section of folks cramming the theatre opening night, it seems like we’re still hungy for more of the famous detective’s deducing. Bums in seats is never a bad thing for a company to wish for and accomplish.

But are we there to see a familiar character in a safely formulaic story so that we can all sit back, not work too hard and enjoy? Or are we there to see new life and insights breathed into a character we thought we knew? This version, adapted by Timothy N. Evers and directed by Troy Scheid gives us lots of the former and a respectable amount of the latter. And yet still, the thing feels off. Like something is missing. And it doesn’t take a Sherlockian brain to realize that some ill-conceived staging and a flawed storyline is the thing that ultimately murders this play.

The Speckled Band: An Adventure of Sherlock Holmes tells the tale of Helen Stoner (Amelia Fischer) and her controlling, violent-tempered stepfather, Dr. Roylott (a wonderfully bombastic and caustic James Belcher) . Helen and her sister Julia have been living with Roylott since their mother’s inexplicable death and as the play opens, we learn that now Julia too has died mysteriously. On the eve of her wedding, no less. We also learn fairly quickly of some provision wherein Roylott loses his inherited fortune should either of his stepdaughters marry. As Helen’s own wedding quickly approaches with her betrothed out-of-town, she turns to her friend Dr. Watson (an easy to like Andrew Love) who suggests she employ the notorious Sherlock Homes (a superbly weird and wonderful John Johnston) to save her from certain death.

And therein lays the problem. Where’s the mystery? We know that Roylott is the killer right from the get go. We know that Helen is his next target and why. Yes, we don’t know exactly how Roylott did and will do it again. Had we been given suspenseful tension we might have cared to find out. Instead, Scheid gives us scenes of lukewarm violence where neither actor commits to the moment. Roylott grabs Helen, pushes her and at one point tries to strangle her, but there is such hesitancy in the staging that any feeling of alarm is snuffed out. If Helen is truly frightened, Fischer does very little outside of delivering the dialogue to show it. In fairness to her, the script doesn’t help. On the eve of her possible death, Helen willingly lets Roylott into her room for a heated chat. Really? Risible plot points like this can’t help but put you in mind of bad 1980’s horror films….the house is haunted? Sure, we’ll go in! Helen might not die the moment she lets her murderer into her room, but our belief in any bloodcurdling feeling being elicited by this play perishes on the spot.

So it is a tremendous accomplishment that there can still be much to enjoy in this production. Well, if much were to mean the portrayal and staging of the great detective himself. It is Sherlock we’ve come to see and it’s a marvellous Sherlock we get. One that is subtly modernized for our ear (thanks to Evers adaptation which removes anachronistic language such as the famous elementary line), given full rein to be both laughed at and with (by Scheid’s fine sense of comedic direction) and in glorious oddball form thanks to Johnson’s refreshing portrayal.

Slightly effete yet moving without any grace whatsoever, Johnson’s Sherlock flatfoots it around the stage with the bug-eyed, hair smoothing, face touching tics and twitches of a slightly off kilter genius. Nothing is ever put down in its proper place. Papers are simply dropped where he stands and coats are flung to lie wherever they may. It’s a lovely touch for a character that has far more pressing mystery solving things to think about. But it’s really the voice that makes it all come together. Speaking at a clip far faster than the rest of the cast, Johnson rails off deductions like they were puffs of air all the while rolling his r’s in a somewhat derisive manner to wonderful effect. Nowhere here is a Sherlock that is in the least bit attractive or awe striking. Instead we are given a Sherlock who is the adult version of the creepy, socially awkward brilliant kid at the back of the class no one wanted to play with. It’s a distinct departure from recent portrayals (with Lee Miller’s being the closest) and it not only gives us a different view of the character, it opens up the possibilities of the humour tremendously.

Possibility is also the name of the game when it comes to set design in this show. Claire A. Jac Jones’ ambitious set that conjures no less than five different settings are nicely realized if cumbersome process. Each set change, accompanied by a blacked out stage and a mournful violin soundtrack, seems to go on forever as props are dragged in and backdrops are switched out. This is not a show that can afford to lose what tenous hold it has on the plot’s tension. Perhaps less ambitious design might have helped the woefully limp script and kept us more engaged with the actual so-called mystery of the play.

Instead we are left to be engaged by Sherlock, which may not mean a holistic theatre experience, but thankfully here does mean a light and fun way to spend a couple of hours.

RATING

For Sherlock fans – It’s a different take on the great detective. Sherlock is far more oddball than impressive genius in this show. But it’s done with such comedic finesse that it’s bound to delight. SEE IT

For mystery fans – Lack of tension or suspense or a mystery that anyone gives a hoot about will leave you cold. SKIP IT

For occasional theatre goers – This is easy, digestible, old-fashioned type of non-heady entertainment with some very strong performances in familiar roles. It may not be a fancy, edge of your seat production, but it might just suit what you are after. MAYBE SEE IT

For theatre junkies – With such polar opposite hits and misses in the production it comes down to what matters more, plausible plotline that creates drama onstage or delight in a terrific performance. Only you can decide this one. MAYBE SEE IT